


A Burden Shared

by Starofwinter



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Background Relationships, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Survivor Guilt, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-02 07:25:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14539623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starofwinter/pseuds/Starofwinter
Summary: Anomaly feels guilt like ballast in his chest.





	A Burden Shared

**Author's Note:**

> Mids and Gunner belong to [subtropicalstenella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/subtropicalStenella/pseuds/subtropicalStenella) and NJ belongs to [kristsune!](https://kristsune.tumblr.com/)

Anomaly feels guilt like ballast in his chest. 

He'd left Mids and Gunner asleep in the barracks pile, curled around each other, Mids with a hand reaching out into the empty space he'd been occupying, because the need to  _ move _ had buzzed in his brain long enough that he felt like he could explode with it if he didn't find his feet and get out. 

So he found himself a bar, found himself a fight, found himself in a bathroom, sick from swallowing too much blood and booze and tabacc smoke. 

And then NJ had found him, had cleaned him up, gotten him back to what was probably Caliber's bunk (bigger than a pilot's, big enough for both of them, so NJ can lay next to him and look up with those sweet gold eyes), and made him feel like osik just by caring so much. 

NJ shouldn't care.  None of them should.   _ He _ doesn't care.  No matter how much he wants them to care, wants to feel loved, he hasn't  _ earned _ it.  He still has stains on his soul he hasn't washed clean, can't wash clean, won't  _ ever _ be able to wash clean.  He hates himself for wanting to reach back, to accept the kindness they offer without hesitation, but the weight in his chest holds him in place.  Still, they meet him halfway, and he doesn't know why. 

Still, he doesn't fight it when NJ wraps him in his arms, just closes his eyes and tries to ignore the electricity beneath his skin and the weight where his lungs should be. 

“Jay’ika,” he murmurs, “I’m not good at this.”  He traces the patterns of NJ’s tattoos with his fingertips.  He’s memorized them, like he memorizes everything about the people he loves, treasures the memories through the nights when he can’t bring himself to find them.  

NJ turns his head to look into his eyes.  “What do you mean?”

Anomaly sighs.  “Love. Being  _ good _ .  Being what you deserve.”  He looks down, at NJ’s chest, at his lips, anywhere but his eyes.  “I’m not sure what I’m doing. I’m- I’m not made for this, you know?  I learned that a long time ago.” A long time is relative for them, but still.  

“Osik,” NJ says simply, “You are.  You just don’t see it. All that static in your head drowns it out sometimes.”

“Angel-”

NJ presses a finger to his lips, silencing him with a gentle gesture.  “Listen to me. You’re good, but till you see it, can you trust me to tell you the truth?”

How can he say no to that?  He nods, and NJ wraps him up in his arms, like he’s as fragile as he feels sometimes.  “Okay,” Anomaly whispers into his chest, because he  _ does _ trust NJ.  He trusts him to hold his pieces together when he can’t do it for himself.   The ballast in his chest doesn’t feel so heavy when he isn’t the only one carrying it.


End file.
